


Chief of Staff

by RueRambunctious



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Banter, Blood and Injury, Fluff, Military Background, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Snooping, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 08:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8660440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RueRambunctious/pseuds/RueRambunctious
Summary: Jim decides it's time to update his chief of staff's privileges and introduce Sebastian to some of his more unusual contacts.





	1. Chapter 1

Sebastian frowns as he stumbles across a folder he has definitely not seen before.

“Jim!” he yells.

“What's with the volume, Sebastian? Some of us aren't deaf,” the brunet complains as he pops his head around the door.

Sebastian fixes his employer with a look. “I'm supposed to be your chief of staff, aren't I?”

“Stupid question,” Jim responds with a roll of dark eyes. “You _are_ my chief of staff.”

Sebastian taps his displeasure in a rhythm on the desk. “Then why has a folder appeared naming staff I've never heard of before?”

“I updated your privileges,” Jim says nonchalantly, which usually means he isn't feeling very nonchalant at all. 

Sebastian narrows his eyes at him. “How do you expect me to do my job properly if you never let me have all the information?”

“Helps you stay inventive,” Jim quips. “And I usually handle the more… unusual… staff myself.”

Sebastian feels something in his chest twist and he returns his attention to some of the standout names on the list: Stardust and Skull Girl. The blond presses his lips together. “Jim… are these code names or call girls?”

Jim snorts. “Jealously looks handsome on you, Tiger. But you're the only one in my employ and my bed.”

Sebastian continues to purse his lips for a beat then sighs and nods. “So why are you showing me now?”

“I've decided that you can be trusted with delicate information,” Jim responds. “Feel grateful.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Always grateful to have you lead me by the nose further down your mad rabbit hole.”

Jim smirks. “Work first, dear.”

Sebastian huffs. “So this first one then… Stargirl. Why do I need to know about her?”

“Stardust,” Jim chides. “She's been of use to me in a number of ways. I rather thought I might introduce you.”

Sebastian sighs inwardly. “Am I going to get shot at?”

Jim chuckles. “Knives are more her taste darling… Although I believe she may still keep her Sig Sauer in her knicker drawer.”

Sebastian considers. “Close protection or ex military?”

“Ex close protection, current military. Although I hear she's negotiating a tap on the shoulder, but that's only gossip so far,” Jim prattles.

“So what do you use Starchild for?” Sebastian asks.

“Stardust,” Jim corrects sharply. “A number of things. She's a bit of a multitool.”

“So not very good at anything,” Sebastian sneers.

“She's generally good at a number of things,” Jim responds. “Including putting down arrogant snipers, so mind yourself.”

Sebastian huffs. “You know you actually sound fond of her.”

Jim gives him an odd look. “I am fond of her, Sebastian.”

“What? But you're not fond of anyone,” Sebastian protests.

“Fond of you, despite all logic,” Jim retorts.

“I suck your cock and kill people for you,” Sebastian grumbles. “What does she do?”

“She's saved my charming hide a number of times, for one,” Jim answers. “She reads people for me, secondly. And she finds me people. Skull Girl on the list? She's one of her's. Very helpful to know. And an absolute scream for redecorating.”

Sebastian raises his brows. “You want me to meet your decorator?”

Jim chuckles. “I don't think you'd appreciate her taste dear.”

If the list makes Sebastian uneasy, noting that Jim has a key to Stardust's home makes Sebastian even more so.

Jim lets himself in without declaring his presence, which seems to Sebastian to be a dubious thing to do in the home of a military woman who keeps a gun in her panty drawer.

It takes a few moments for Sebastian to acclimatise and realise that the space is empty. “I thought you wanted me to meet her?”

“She's on her way,” Jim shrugs. “I like a bit of a snoop first, don't you?”

Sebastian sighs. “Is that really a good idea?”

“If she minds I'll simply tell her it was yours,” Jim says with a wicked little grin.

The chief of staff sighs again but closes the door behind himself, locking it, and steps through into the living area. The walls are completely lined with heavily laden bookshelves, and the décor is plain to avoid competing with the busy book spines everywhere. The shelves are positively crammed, and littered here and there with the odd knickknack, but other than that the space seems spartan.

Sebastian looks around. It's a slightly odd layout: a galley kitchen to the back, and four doors, one of which is heavily reinforced, and one of which boasts strong locks.

Jim tilts his head at each in turn. “Bathroom, bedroom, study, and… well, there's no need to peek around in that one.”

Sebastian raises his brows at the panic door for a bathroom and quirks them at the last door. “Why not?”

“Empty bedroom. Last occupant doesn't live here any more.”

“That sounds ominous,” Sebastian mutters.

“Oh, still living,” Jim muses. “Made a bit of a success of themselves I believe.”

Sebastian's eyes glitter thoughtfully at Jim's vagueness but the brunet is already trotting towards Star-whatever's bedroom, so Sebastian quickly follows.

The room is bright but a bit impersonal, a washed out palette of white and grey. It's a large room, not dominated by the pale four poster bed draped in muslin and lights, and the wall of mirrored wardrobes reflects so much clear floor space it reminds Sebastian of a dance studio. It's a tidy enough space, with only some bulky wrist weights and a mouthguard container suggesting anyone lives here at all.

Must be the military thing. The house feels lived in but not _lived in_ , much like a holiday home. It's as though Star-what could pick up and leave at the least of notice. The books would wait for her.

Jim is standing near a bleak photographic mural of black and white trees overhanging a deep river. He twitches his lips. “You're letting her fool you into thinking she's bland. Try over there.”

Sebastian wrinkles his brow but approaches the mirror Jim indicates. He pulls it open and blinks at the rainbow array of fake fur and skimpy, shiny things that would make Bowie blush. Sebastian gives Jim a look over his shoulder and opens the other doors. Galaxy prints and glitter PVC and buckles and velvets and supple pastel leathers. The woman's got an obssession. There are drawers within the wardrobe with clear perspex fronts, and they light from tracks within when Sebastian pulls them open. 

“Remind me how you know her?” Sebastian asks.

Jim gives a dark little smirk that makes the chief of staff oddly anxious. “She's not a whore, Sebastian.”

“A dancer then,” Sebastian shrugs, pulling open another mirror. Shoes. More shoes than he's seen in a department store. Or in an actual shoe shop, possibly. Sebastian has sufficient of an understanding of popular culture to recognise there are enough limited edition boxes to make a sneakerhead cream, but he doesn't pay much attention to the array of holographic, glow in the dark, light up, clear or winged trainers, none of which he imagines are any use for running in.

Behind what is likely an enviable collection of high heels that look tear-inducingly expensive and torturous to wear are some scuffed stripper heels. _Literally_ stripper heels. Sebastian leans in and hooks his calloused finger under a strap, pulling out a platform shoe which is an actual tip jar, with a slot on the side and everything.

Sebastian wrinkles his nose and hold it up to Jim. “I don't know many strippers who get into working close protection, Jim.”

“It takes a great deal of strength and a high pain threshold to work a pole, Bastian, but she's not a stripper,” Jim responds. He takes the shoe with an oddly nostalgic expression.

Sebastian gives him a dubious look and watches as his employer tucks the shoe away carefully. “She doesn't even have a good pair of boots amongst this lot. What kind of soldier is she?”

Jim smirks and indicates the mirror nearest the bedroom door. “Try over there.”

Sebastian wanders over and finally finds some practical clothing: fatigues and durable, buffed boots and totally trashed running trainers and comfortable tracksuits and sweat wicking gym wear.

There's a drawer that's opaque. Sebastian opens it and dips his fingers in the sea of distinctly impractical shreds of fabric. His fingers brush a few slightly worn little boxes and then something wonderfully cold. Sig sauer found. 

Jim closes the other mirrors and pads over to the bed in his own expensive footwear. He flops down atop the memory foam with a level of ease that makes Sebastian suspicious. 

Sebastian approaches the bed and notices dents on the wall, painted over. They're definitely from _this_ bed, but who ever bothers to tidy those things up? Unless there was a fucking bad breakup involved.

Jim turns and looks almost sad as he follows Sebastian's line of vision. “Poor soul.”

Sebastian's uncertain how to take that, so he dips his head and feels down the back of the bed. Two sheathed knives -good ones- and a colt with one round. And… scratches. Dents. On the bed frame, as though there were strong restraints there once upon a time. Metal ones.

Sebastian drops to the floor and checks under the valance, but is surprised not to find anything but clean floor.

“The sort of girl who has knives in her bed keeps a box of tricks somewhere, right?” Sebastian comments.

“Less than you'd think: she purges them when she's feeling sentimental. Although the box you speak of has been shoved on a shelf on top of her wardrobe since the castration.”

Sebastian stills, his knees hurting a little on the unforgiving floor. “Castration?”

Jim merely nods, lips pinched and a strange expression in his eyes. Almost a mixture of pity and anger.

Sebastian doesn't know how to react to a look like that and fetches down the box instead. Jim doesn't seem overly interested in its contents but his expression flicks fondly as he catches sight of some throwing stars.

“She's been holding out on me,” he says with a little smile.

“What do you mean?” Sebastian asks, pausing rummaging through what largely seem to be pain implements.

“She said she can't stand the sight of these anymore, but she kept them,” Jim states, turning a titanium one over in his fingers. He drops it back with its fellows. “Too pretty to throw out, I suppose.”

“What happened?” Sebastian asks.

“With the stars?” Jim asks. “One of her particularly sour relationships I believe. Why she didn't condone the good throat-slitting there is beyond me.”

“You slit her girlfriend's throat?” Sebastian asks.

“Girl-?” Jim catches sight of some cleaned sex toys. “Those were for pegging, dear.”

“Oh,” Sebastian mumbles.

Jim gives a small smile then huffs. “She's a bloody nightmare when she dates women. Well, she was. Would get all protective and nesting and they'd make so much fucking noise because they'd decide to get out of bed and kick each other bloody at three in the damned morning.”

“Sounds a bit like our sex life,” Sebastian mutters in a wry, quiet voice. Jim narrows his eyes at him.

Sebastian smiles, pulls the lid back on the box and returns it. “So when is your violent little friend coming back?”

“Expected her to be here by now, which means she's stopped to get one of those sickly hot chocolates that she's not supposed to have,” Jim says, pushing himself off of the bed.

“Going to tell her that, are you?” Sebastian asks, following back through to the living room.

“She knows fine well,” Jim sniffs. “She's fairly allergic to dairy, and chocolate, and she's intolerant to the gluten in the syrup she has added. Although who can blame her? The food she is allowed to eat is shit.”

Sebastian purses his lips and looks around at the books. There's bits on everything: history, politics, languages, sport, drama, queer lit, classic lit, actual trash, art, and a whole wall of comics and manga.

“She's fussy with her books,” Jim comments. “Hates to break a spine, despite how she handles humans. If a book's dog-eared it either belonged to someone else first or she's obsessed with it. Have fun knowing which.”

Sebastian frowns. “So if she likes her books to look untouched how do you know she disliked it?”

Jim smiles. “A book placed back with a bookmark within is absolutely damning.” He stands and crosses to a small selection of shabby children's books. Jim plucks one without hesitation, opens it where marked, and hands it to Sebastian. “With one exception.”

The blond bows his head over the tiny writing and skims a passage or three. Then frowns and turns the book over in his hands. “This is brutal.”

“And rather erotic, apparently, in the days when kids didn't have the internet quite as it is now,” Jim comments. “She found the part where he starts to cry particularly thrilling.”

“How close are you?” Sebastian asks, staring at the pages and pages of detail documenting a fictitious pirate receiving a harsh flogging.

“Rather,” Jim states. “I've had my head down her toilet a number of times.”

Sebastian lifts his head for a beat then returns the supposed children's book. “Since when do you have friends?”

“Why would I be predictable?” Jim asks. A key turns in the lock and he turns to the front door. “You took your sweet time.”

The woman rolls her eyes over a cardboard cup. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Irish?”


	2. Chapter 2

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Irish?” 

“You say that like you haven't missed me,” Jim smirks at Stardust's dry greeting.

She snickers softly and kicks the door closed behind her. “Oh, it's barely living without running errands for you.”

The woman slides her gaze to Sebastian. “This who I think it is?”

Jim smirks and examines his manicured nails. “My chief of staff, darling?”

Sebastian feels his heart skip a beat. He was under the impression that _no one_ knew of the unprofessional aspect of his relationship with Jim.

“Dear me,” Stardust smiles and takes a sip from her forbidden hot chocolate. “You staying for dinner?”

Jim gives a sly smile that surprises Sebastian almost as much. “I may have missed your lasagne.”

The woman gives him a soft look. “As you wish, Irish.”

She takes another sip then shucks off her inadequate jacket. Tossing it on a hook near the front door, she bounds through to the kitchen to wash her hands and start opening cupboards. Jim follows easily and pulls himself onto a gleaming counter.

Sebastian steps after them slowly.

“So, is there a reason pretty boy's here?” Stardust questions Jim.

Jim's dark eyes glitter. “We came to rescue you from another meal of fish and rice.”

The woman snorts. “At this point I've got a kilo of lean beef in my fridge from craving all the meals I used to cook.”

Jim throws her a grin. “You might be frigid but you're still marriage material. Your fucking spiced bolognese...”

Stardust snorts. “Don't make me cut you, Irish.”

Jim chortles and swings his short legs. “That was a compliment you oversensitive thing.”

She laughs indignantly. “I'm the oversensitive one? Have you met you?”

Jim sticks out his tongue and it makes Sebastian uneasy. He's seen Jim act strangely as a performance, but there's a level of easiness in Jim's posture right now that is wholly uncharacteristic. The only watchfulness in the brunet's gaze is directed at Sebastian.

Judging how Sebastian is taking all of this. The blond hopes he passes this little test.

Stardust seems to note the slight tension. “How's your boy with a knife, Irish?”

Jim gives Sebastian a disarmingly fond look. “More than adequate.”

Stardust nods approvingly and snaps her fingers. “Over here and wash your hands, handsome.”

Sebastian raises his brows, but he can tell without even looking that Jim wants him to obey. So he does.

Stardust gives him a towel to dry his hands with then thrusts the handle of a small, very sharp knife into his hands. She swings a chopping board down lightly in from of him and fetches some tomatoes and peppers. “There,” the woman says pleasantly, “no need to feel idle in my kitchen.”

Sebastian gives Jim a glance that Stardust catches. “Oh he's a lost cause,” she dismisses as she returns to making pasta sheets. “You'd think that with his head for numbers he could at least divide up enchilada portions, but he's a fucking tragedy in the kitchen.”

“Says you, Miss Fucking Ready Brek,” Jim huffs.

“I feed _you_ the good stuff, don't I?” the woman smiles. “Can't help it if I'm lazy.”

Sebastian focuses on his chore. He's uncertain how he feels about this female making Jim's breakfasts.

Jim curls his lip at her. “So lazy that you made the close protection team as a woman, even though you had to carry someone about twenty kilos heavier than you to do so.”

Stardust snorts and glances up from her task. “Yes, but that was about pride. I'm not precious about you judging my breakfast.” She takes a mouthful of her hot chocolate and leaves the sorry excuse for flour she uses in a handprint on the cup.

“See that's what's wrong with you,” Jim smirks, “you don't spend your every waking moment striving for my approval.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes above the chopping board.

Stardust barks out a laugh. “You can suck my dick before I'd become one of your little yes men. You'd be bored to tears.”

“Army's done wonders for your manners I see,” Jim comments.

“Only girl,” Stardust reminds him, “and a whole lot of dick swinging.”

Jim curls his lip. “You should have just bent them over. They'd have learned quickly enough.”

Stardust crosses to the fridge and takes out a packet of meat that she dumps into a pan with some chili oil. “I might have. But it is really boring and shit when you don't get the endorphin rush when you cum. Feels fucking pointless.”

“Poor lamb,” Jim sympathises.

“It wasn't all bad,” the woman mutters as she browns the beef. “Got to see the insides of some very posh buildings quite intimately.”

Jim cackles. “You fucked a princess and all you have to mention is the décor?”

Stardust rolls her eyes. “Not supposed to talk about shagging the princess, am I? Get my proverbial balls chopped. As if that could be any worst than this, you know?”

“Any updates from the hospital?” Jim asks.

Stardust grimaces. “Country's top specialist is a waste of space. It's remarkable I can do my job with all these fucking side affects. Although apparently I might heal.”

“You say that like you've had proof,” Jim responds interestedly.

Stardust flips the meat, breaking it into smaller chunks. “Nightmares have stopped and now I'm having these fucked up dreams… where I remember what it felt like. Before it happened, you know? Wake up to the worst tease ever, it's fucking torture.”

Jim blinks then chuckles. “You're having wet dreams?”

Stardust bares her teeth dryly and throws a tea towel at him. “It's fucking awful, Irish! I dream I'm still a cocky little fourteen year old doing wonderful things, and then I wake up and remember I'm a chemically castrated adult. It's not fun.”

“No, but it's amusing,” Jim states.

Stardust pouts and jabs her steel spatula at him. “I'll feed your portion to your boyfriend if you can't be nice.”

Sebastian almost severs a finger in shock. Stardust turns around at his hiss and quickly takes his hand, cleaning it up gently and nudging the meat off of the heat.

“Oh, is that not a word we use?” she asks dryly.

Sebastian tries to make words leave his mouth but just moves his lips dumbly. His heart is racing and it's not because he's bleeding heavily.

“Call him what you want,” Jim says carefully. “No one can hear us here.” He tilts his chin upwards. “But if you think you're denying me lasagne we are going to come to blows.”

Stardust chuckles and bandages stunned Sebastian tenderly. She glances sidelong at Jim. “You think you're gonna come out of that victorious, do you mate?”

Jim sniffs haughtily. “I'm above such dirty work. Sebastian can be my champion.”

“Poor Sebastian has already risked his digits to please you today,” Stardust responds dryly. “I'm benching him.”

Jim glowers. “You can't bench my-”

Stardust grins wickedly and waggles her brows. “Your what, darling? Your champion? Your chief of staff? Your boooyyyyfriend?”

Jim rolls his eyes with remarkable patience.

Stardust smirks contentedly and shoves the beef back onto the hot plate, then steps carefully around Sebastian to fetch and crush some garlic.

“Does your boy even talk?” she asks.

Sebastian purses his lips. “I talk.”

The woman gives him a fond look. “Irish likes the sound of his voice so much I quite thought that you might be mute,” she teases, quickly laying out pasta sheets along a dish and adding the vegetables and sauce to the meat.

“I've complained about his insubordination enough that you know fine well he's not mute,” Jim mutters.

Stardust quirks her lips. “I wasn't planning to tell Muscles here that you bitch to me about him on the regular, but perhaps honesty is a good foundation for a criminal relationship. I wouldn't know.”

“Bitching to you, as you so eloquently put it, keeps me from killing him out of frustration. It's a true kindness on his behalf,” Jim retorts. He crosses his arms. “And what would you know about any relationship whose end goal was something other than one party dying horribly?”

“There would be a lot less 'dying horribly' if you would just leave my exes alone,” Stardust mutters as she stirs the contents of the pan and pours some into the dish.

“Added protection is a perk of being friendly with the boss,” Jim declares.

Stardust rolls her eyes and adds another layer of pasta. “If I truly wanted them dead I'd do it myself.”

“Your judgement goes way off whenever you're dating,” Jim sniffs.

Stardust laughs, almost spilling the next layer. “Okay, that one's true. But it leads to interesting experiences sometimes.”

“Oh yes, the potentially lethal international scandal involved in you screwing a member of a middle eastern royal family was certainly 'interesting',” Jim drawls.

“A level of danger makes the fuck interesting,” Stardust says ruefully. She tosses her head at Sebastian. “You know what I'm talking about, right?”

“I am not a level of danger,” Jim retorts indignantly.

Sebastian raises his brows and bites his lip, but the corners of his mouth turn up tellingly.

“You see?” Stardust grins, jabbing the spatula at Jim. “Fucking the psychopathic criminal boss… fucking the princess whose family could have me killed… It's a reasonable desire. Danger maketh the orgasm, Irish.”

“Bloody idiots,” Jim mutters.

Stardust tilts her head musingly and reaches for the white sauce. “Well yeah, preferably. Nothing screams foreplay like a good fight, y'know?”

Sebastian turns his blue eyes on Jim and makes it clear that he is being a very good boy by not commenting. Jim lets out a noise of disgust.

Stardust grates a liberal amount of cheese over the lasagne with a cheery expression.

“No dairy,” Jim reminds her pettily.

“Fuck off, I have visitors,” Stardust retorts. “I plan on enjoying my food tonight.”

“So glad we're only here so you can cheat on your dietary requirements,” Jim responds.

Stardust rolls her eyes and shoves the laden dish into the preheated oven. “I'm pretty sure you're only here so you can eat my cooking and show off your other half somewhere it won't make him a target.”

Sebastian looks at Jim. The brunet frowns. “I assure you this is about business. I decided it was time my chief of staff met my more… off the books employees.”

Stardust closes the oven with her hip and starts cleaning up. “You mean your soft touches. Because you want your Tiger to know that you trust him with _everything_.”

“Bronagh!”

She looks over her shoulder unrepentantly. “Oh, it's real names now, is it Jimmy?”

He narrows his eyes. “You're pushing it, Stardust.”

“And that's exactly why you're here, _M_ ,” Stardust responds seriously.

Sebastian looks between the pair with an uncomfortable feeling in his gut and a muscle twitching in his strong jaw. Of _course_ Jim had to make a performance out of everything.

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose and glares at the floor for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking up. “It's difficult to remember why I don't shoot you sometimes.”

Stardust sets a timer on the over and strides over to Jim. She stands by his leg comfortably. “You don't shoot me because you trust me and my superior emotional intelligence.” She smirks. “And I like to think you enjoy my company almost as much as my cooking.”

Jim glowers. “One of these days you're going to go too far. And your cooking is far better than your company.”

Stardust shrugs and ruffles Jim's short hair, grinning at his resulting grumpy look and Sebastian's horrified expression. She picks up her mostly empty cup and tosses it in the bin. “Yeah, yeah. You've been threatening me for years, Irish.”

“And yet you never fucking listen,” Jim huffs.

Stardust leans on the counter and grins fondly. “Who else have you got to sass you now that you're big and important? I'm highly refreshing.”

Jim narrows his eyes but there's no ice in them. “I'm sure the princess found your tastes refreshing but you'd still likely have been dismembered or stoned if anyone knew just how wicked you'd been.”

Stardust puffs out her cheeks. “That's one advantage of the castration: not thinking with my cunt. I _like_ having all of my body parts still attached.”

“If you didn't tend to think with your cunt you might never have worked with me, and then where would you be?” Jim drawls.

“My indiscretions were buried deep enough that I'd probably still have gotten promoted, but I wouldn't be so relaxed in knowing the evidence is destroyed,” Stardust muses. “Although I'd likely have made enough of a mess at some other point to call on your services.”

“Would hardly be good business to have destroyed it all,” Jim teases, feigning interest in his nails again.

Stardust chortles. “True, but we're never likely to face a situation where you'd use any.”

Jim makes a playfully derisive look and throws the towel. “Keep telling my chief of staff that I'm horribly fond of him and I might.”

She laughs and catches it before swatting his thigh lightly with the cloth. “But that _is_ why you dropped in.”

Jim flashes Sebastian a wary look then tugs Stardust closer. “I could have him shoot you, you know.”

“And I _could_ fit you in a suitcase, but we shall do neither of those things,” Stardust grins. She is easily close enough to strike, her breath on Jim's skin, but he's not even tempted to.

He drags a foot up her leg. “You're right: you're afraid of water, I should have him drown you in the sink.”

She smirks at him and tugs his hair gently. “And _you_ hate physical affection, so maybe I should just cuddle you tight.”

He jerks away. “You're not funny.”

Stardust winks. “Maybe not, but you wouldn't be without me.”

Jim opens his mouth to retort, but the cooker bleeps and he's not one to argue when it could impact upon his lasagne portion. Stardust gives him an amused look because she knows exactly his thoughts on the matter.

“You're ridiculous, Irish, you know that, right?” she smiles, sliding on gloves to retrieve the meal from the oven.

“No, I'm hungry,” Jim responds, dropping down frown the counter. “Besides, do you know how long it's been since I had a family meal?”

Stardust arches her brow and closes the oven door with her leg before placing down the heavy dish. “Probably the last time you sent me to the kitchen. Do you boys want sides with this?”

“Why the fuck would we want salad or your sorry excuse for bread when we could glut ourselves on this?” Jim sneers.

Stardust rolls her eyes and hands his impatient hand a utensil to carve the large lasagne into three as she fetches crockery. “Little piggy.”

He fixes his dark eyes on her and Sebastian expects a threatening retort, but all the Irishman says is, “Oink.”

Stardust smirks and hands Jim a bowl. “You want red with this?”

“Sicilian,” Jim asserts.

“Yes boss,” she smiles, swapping the filled bowl for an empty one. She leans back to catch Sebastian's blue eyes. “Honey, see that cupboard by you? Top left.”

The blond obeys and holds a bottle aloft questioningly. Jim glances at it and nods. “Two glasses, that cupboard there.”

“Two?” Sebastian queries.

“I don't drink. Not wine, anyway,” Stardust explains as she hands Jim the last bowl.

Sebastian's forehead wrinkles. “Awful lot of bottles for someone who doesn't drink.”

She grins. “His Highness over here complains if I don't sport an adequate collection. Obeying is less hassle than listening to his whining.”

Jim straightens and gives her an appalled look. “I don't _whine_.”

Stardust's eyes glitter as she meets Sebastian's carefully reserved gaze. “Course not, sweetie.”

Jim narrows his eyes and tugs cutlery out of a drawer. He points it at the woman warningly. “Don't set a bad example. I don't want all my hard work undone because he thinks his position gives him carte blanche for backchat.”

“I'm not that stupid,” Sebastian says, swapping Jim a glass of wine for a steaming bowl.

Jim hums in response, unconvinced.

Sebastian meets Stardust's gaze behind Jim's back. 'Or brave,' he mouths.

She giggles and takes a tumbler off of the drainer to fill with water.

Jim frowns and puts down his wine and lasagne, then takes Sebastian's and dumps it on the counter too. Sebastian steps back. “What-?”

Jim reaches around and swats his chief of staff warningly. “No,” he scolds, as though Sebastian is a dog.

Sebastian sighs and rubs the sting out of his rear. “That was necessary, was it?”

Jim gives him a stern look and lifts his meal again. “Who's she going to tell?”

Stardust switches off the cooker and gives the brunet a small shove. “Don't embarrass him. I don't need to know what goes on in your bedroom.”

Jim snorts. “You already know what goes on in my bedroom. Who else can I brag to?”

Stardust yanks away Jim's bowl as Sebastian's expression falls. “What did I say about not embarrassing your boyfriend, Irish?”

Jim makes a face. “Give me my food, darling. This isn't something to joke about.”

“Are you gonna be good?” Stardust demands.

Jim snorts. “Am I ever?”

Stardust leans close. “If Tall, Blond, and Handsome over there isn't too big for a smack then neither are you, Jimmy-boy,” she murmurs.

Jim gives her an appalled look. “Don't you dare. He'll be intolerable.”

Stardust hands back his food. “Then be nice.”

“I'm rarely nice,” Jim grumbles, but he trots quickly through to the couch before his lasagne can be captured again.

Stardust hands Sebastian his own dinner. “Don't mind him,” she says.

The blond shrugs. “I build up a thick skin working for the little toerag.”

She grins. “I know what you mean.”

They traipse through to join Jim and settle lazily around him. He ignores them for a bit, shovelling burning food into his mouth, but eventually admits defeat and waits for his dinner to be something other than molten.

“So, the gossip that's out about you, how do you feel about it?” he asks Stardust by way of distracting small talk.

She wrinkles her nose. “Better than the gossip that could come out. Not convinced I'm interested though.”

He regards her with thoughtful dark eyes. “Aren't you terribly bored?”

She raises her brows without inflection. “Who said I was bored?”

Jim quirks his lips. “You do. Repeatedly.”

Stardust sighs. “I'd be bored whatever I took on. It's the variety that keeps me going.”

“Ah, so you don't take on sidelines from me out of the goodness of your heart, is that what you're saying?” Jim teases.

Stardust snorts. “And the first time I asked for a favour from you, Irish, you did it out of the 'goodness of your heart' did you?”

“That would be bloody terrible business,” he drawls.

She chuckles and cuts into her food. “Little arse.”

He tries not to pout at her. Smirking instead, he lightly demands, “What did I tell you about teaching my Sebastian bad habits?”

“Ooooh, _your Sebastian_ ,” Stardust throws back.

Jim glowers. “Shut up. Everything's mine.”

Sebastian bows his head over his food to avoid a conversation he feels would be hazardous to partake in.

He moans in astonishment as his fork fills his mouth.

Stardust gives a fond smile and sips her water before placing it back on the table nearby.

“Fuck me, that's worth never having sex with your wife,” he mutters after swallowing.

Stardust throws her head back and laughs at the huffy, mildly betrayed look Jim gives Sebastian.

“I'm better than food,” Jim reminds sourly.

Sebastian's lips twitch, and he responds bravely, “I know, love.”

Jim blinks quickly for a beat, then turns and smiles into his lasagne.


	3. Chapter 3

Afterwards Jim acts as if Sebastian has never been introduced to his lasagne-making friend. Sebastian does not question any of it but ponders what it apparently means: Jim cares.

Not that the cool brunet has shown much sign of it bar some rather odd looks and an exceptionally _rough_ tumble in the sheets that night.

Sebastian accepts that if Jim is going to say anything it will be when the stubborn man damn well feels like it. So Sebastian tries not to let it dwell in his head.

Although it does.

It takes days before Jim appears unexpectedly in Sebastian's office and gives the blond a lengthy, peculiar look.

Sebastian turns around and waits. “Something you need, boss?”

Jim's voice is an atypical mixture of stern and wary. “Ready to meet that decorator?”

Sebastian considers Stardust's words: Jim wants to show him off. The chief of staff nods and pulls himself up from his chair.

Jim is quiet in the car. Lips pressed together as though fussing over a delicate mission, his manner twists something in Sebastian's gut. The blond almost dares to wonder whether Jim considers him _important_. Jim is certainly wearing his 'important task' face.

The car stops in front of an ordinary house in an ordinary little scheme. If by ordinary one means a notorious area regularly featured in documentaries about poverty and crime.

Sebastian huffs out a small laugh at the amusingly ominous graffiti covering the area's signage and follows Jim out of the car towards the perfectly normal front door.

Jim does not knock. Instead he pulls down the handle and steps inside confidently, immediately turning and trotting along a dark corridor.

Nothing inside the house is normal and it sends a tingle along the ordinarily unflappable Sebastian's spine. Skull Girl's 'décor' is an exceptional collection of human and animal remains. Sebastian's met plenty of hunters before, but this is different. Various torture implements still impale the decorations in gleefully lackadaisical decadence.

Jim's lips twitch. “Still with me, soldier boy?”

Sebastian swallows and schools his expression into nonchalance that he knows his employer will see through anyway. “Perfectly fine.”

Jim arches a brow and leads Sebastian up a hidden staircase. “Are you aware that your voice rises an octave when you lie?”

“Are you aware that this place is creepy as fuck?” Sebastian mutters back.

Jim smirks. “I find it charming.”

“You would,” Sebastian grumbles softly.

“Anyone would think you are worried I'm likely to have you mounted, Tiger,” Jim teases.

The blond narrows his eyes. “Don't even joke about that.”

Instead of another smirk over his shoulder Jim actually pauses and turns. He gives Sebastian an appraising look. “You're actually nervous, aren't you?”

Sebastian glowers. “I reckon it's the sane response to these surroundings, Jim.”

Jim snorts. “I thought you were game for anything, Sebastian.”

“There are psychopaths and psychopaths, boss,” the blond responds.

Jim arches a dark brow in amusement. “Why Tiger, are you saying that I'm less frightening than this?”

Sebastian swallows. “Not saying anything,” he mutters before Jim decides to get creative.

Jim smirks and starts walking again. Sebastian starts to hear a voice that gives him the creeps.

Someone is _singing_. Sebastian begins to feel his flesh ripple in unease as Jim cuts a path towards the haunting tune.

Jim opens another door that Sebastian struggles to even see in the gloom and the words of the song start to become clearer. Sebastian reaches for the reassuring shape of his gun resting near his heart.

Jim turns and regards his chief of staff with glittering eyes. “Now really, would I let anyone hurt you?”

That makes something within Sebastian flutter although he tells himself not to hear softness in Jim's tone. It wouldn't be the first time Jim had lulled him into a false sense of security only to throw in some uncomfortable game.

A thin, long-limbed woman is hunched over the glow of enormous monitors, bobbing her head as she sings eerily to the faces secured to the walls and ceiling. The images on the screens flicker and cast odd shadows. It almost seems like the severed heads are mouthing along with her.

Sebastian does not like it.

Jim crosses the room and settles on the desk with his knees pointing to the woman's elbow. “Skully.”

The singing stops and the woman turns in profile displaying surprisingly thick, seductive lips. “M. Star said to expect you.”

Jim picks up a carved crystal skull from near his hip. “I rather thought your other friends liked to tell you.”

Sebastian is distinctly unsettled when a skull near him turns to look at him directly. He has his gun out and aimed before he notes the red light glowing within.

Skull Girl's lips twist across her face. “Of course they did.”

Sebastian gives the concealed camera an ugly look which is projected back to them onscreen. Jim laughs unkindly.

“Sweetheart, this is Skull Girl. Skully, my chief of staff,” Jim introduces.

All Sebastian hears is _Sweetheart_ until Skull Girl pulls herself up on incredibly long legs and meets him in two strides. Colourless eyes smiling behind glasses, she throws out a bony hand in greeting. It feels like touching a frozen statue in winter and sends a chill up Sebastian's arm.

“They won't bite,” Skull Girl reassures in a voice that is not reassuring.

Sebastian gives the collection a sidelong look and hums in unconvinced acknowledgement. 

Jim chuckles softly from his perch on the desk. “You're not usually so squeamish about death, Sebastian.”

The blond throws his employer a disgruntled look.

Jim merely gives a richer laugh.

Skull Girl takes her ornament from Jim's hand and places it back neatly. She swings back onto her chair and pulls up a few windows with a thoughtful hum.

Jim turns to comment about having his toy removed but his attention diverts to the footage on the screen. “What's she doing here?”

Skull Girl shrugs shoulders that are always slumped due to her height. “If I'm lucky she's bringing me presents.”

Jim wrinkles his nose. “She's on the list I suppose. Let her up.”

Sebastian eyes the pair dubiously but they are blocking his view of the monitor. “Who?”

Jim turns around and shifts his jaw in a considering manner that makes Sebastian both nervous and slightly aroused all at once. Jim's dark eyes are intense and deliberating.

“A little friend of mine.”

“Another employee?” Sebastian surmises.

“At times,” Jim admits, something tense in his brow that Sebastian wonders at.

“She helps me sometimes,” Skull Girl comments.

Sebastian blinks. “What do you actually _do_?”

She rests her bony arm on the back of her chair and pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I fake footage and the occasional death.”

“She is exceptionally skilled,” Jim adds. He smirks despite the worried tightness in his face. “Although most of the films and games she works on as a civilian are rarely quite so bloody.”

Skull Girl sniggers. She explains, “I've been working on some big shoot 'em ups and slasher films recently.”

Sebastian opens his mouth to respond but freezes in horror as one of the decapitated heads starts to _speak_.

“Got those baby teeth you wanted.”

Sebastian swallows. It's a bloody realistic animatronic if that's what it is.

Skull Girl presses a button and dips towards a microphone. “Come right up. I've got a couple of breathers in.”

Breathers. Sebastian's glad that of all the unhinged murderers he could have fallen for, Jim is at least passably normal. If you don't look too hard.

Jim's lips curl as he watches Sebastian almost as if he can read the blond's thoughts. Sebastian's not entirely convinced that the criminal cannot.

Sebastian cringes as a line of realistic props begin to animate in greeting to a woman who treads inside the dark room. She pats a few of the skulls fondly then approaches the light of the monitors.

She freezes.

“Jim. Hi.” 

Sebastian knows that voice. He checks his list mentally until… Glee. Glee is Molly Hooper. No way.

Well of course the nickname seems obvious now, but… Molly Hooper? Molly Hooper works for Jim?

The brunet man shifts his legs and slides off of the desk again. He gives Sebastian a blatantly uneasy look and steps forwards to Molly. He leans up on his toes, light from the monitors flashing across the expensive leather, and brushes his lips against the pathologist's cheek.


	4. Chapter 4

Sebastian had always thought of Molly Hooper as mild and unimportant, but she looks strikingly comfortable in the company of two murderous psychopaths and a mob of severed heads. This is a familiar setting to her.

And yet… the look she is giving Jim is an odd one.

Sebastian drags his gaze back to Jim for some sort of clue, but bewilderingly, Jim looks almost… Jim Moriarty somehow looks embarrassed.

Molly fusses with her long hair a little, seemingly more out of awkwardness than fear. “Didn't realise you were going to be here today.”

Jim swallows, mirroring her unease. “Likewise, pet.” The short man turns to wave a pale wrist in Sebastian's direction. “I'm leading Sebastian through my… unusual contacts.”

Molly's lips twitch, and it must be the flickering shadows from the monitor twisting her appearance, because to Sebastian her smile looks _feral_. “Were you planning on the three of us sitting down with takeaway?”

Jim covers his face as he smirks back, a nervous tell that has Sebastian intrigued and alarmed. “I rather hadn't planned that far yet,” Jim mutters.

Molly stares hard at the short man for a moment. Jim's shoulders flinch beneath his suit as though she still has a scalpel or bone saw in hand. “You're still welcome,” she says at last.

Something eerily like vulnerability flashes across Jim's face for less than a second. Sebastian pats his gun nervously.

Jim swallows and examines his cufflinks nonchalantly. “I'll bear that in mind, Molls.”

She tilts up her chin. “Thought it was 'Glee' at work, M?”

Jim chuckles gracelessly. “Right, of course.”

Molly reaches into her pocket and seems perfectly aware of, yet unperturbed by, the way Sebastian's grip changes on his gun. She pulls out a small bag and places them on Skull Girl's desk.

“The teeth,” Glee announces.

Skull Girl smiles eerily and pours the contents of the bag out onto her large, skeletal palm. Even in the dim light it is clear that the teeth are stained with blood and gum fragments.

“Infection is likely to set in if they aren't cleaned first,” the pathologist declares with a mildness of voice which does not match the steel of her eyes.

Skull Girl smirks and returns the delivery to their bag. “Part of the fun, I expect. I'll pass them on.”

Glee nods and steps away from the desk. She fixes Jim with a look that makes the man shift his weight instinctively.

“Shall we get this over with?” the brunette suggests.

Jim nods jerkily and snaps his fingers absently at Sebastian to follow.

“Play nicely,” Skully calls over her shoulder. She returns her focus to her screens and mutters to herself, “Or don't. It's been a while since I've had a new toy to mount.”

Sebastian is more relieved to escape the building than he has words to express.

Glee's expression twitches unkindly. “Never sewn teeth inside a bad guy before, Moran?”

The blond looks around at her quickly. The dark tinge to her voice is not what he has expected from her.

“Be nice,” Jim warns coolly.

The pathologist chuckles. “You don't like 'nice'.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Nonetheless, Sebastian's off limits.”

Molly regards the blond with a look that makes Sebastian _distinctly_ wary. “You used to be fun, M.”

Jim laughs, sounding relaxed for the first time since the woman made her appearance. “I'm still fun, darling, but I don't share.”

“Don't you?” Glee scoffs.

“Not my favourites,” Jim admits, then walks off ahead before Sebastian can try to read the brunet's expression.

Glee gives the chief of staff an amused look.

Jim has the route to Molly Hooper's flat memorised and shoves his hands in his pockets as he lets his feet lead the way. Sebastian stares at the small back and wonders what other surprises Jim has in store. Would it be so bloody difficult to just _explain_ things instead of all of this secretive cloak and dagger bullshit?

Even more strange, perhaps, is the look Sebastian catches on Glee's face. Her expression has softened as she gazes at Jim's turned back.

She glances up quickly at Sebastian's attention.

“Be kind to him,” the woman orders fiercely.

Sebastian flounders a bit in surprise. “I-?”

“He's not as strong as you think,” Molly states, and then she pulls her door key out of her handbag and strides forwards to hand it to Jim.

Sebastian stares after them. What the fuck?

Jim swings around in the doorway and leans against the painted frame. He regards Sebastian with a mixture of amused patience and nervous agitation. It makes him twitch beneath his suit.

“Quit dallying, Sebbykins,” the brunet smirks.

Sebastian swallows. “Coming, boss.”

Jim turns with an approving hum and leads inside.


	5. Chapter 5

Molly strides through the back of her living room towards the kitchen. She flicks on the kettle and gives Jim an amused look as she sets out three teacups.

Jim nods in approval, eyes on one cup in particular. Sebastian's unsure how to feel about Jim having favourites.

“How do you like yours, Moran?” the woman asks.

Sebastian lifts his head quickly and blurts out a response. Everything about today has been too weird to feel at ease.

She smiles obliviously, her expression oddly welcoming, and turns back to the task.

Jim toes out of his shoes and draws his short legs up on the couch.

“Weird having you back here,” Glee comments, carrying over the tea.

Jim accepts his with a measured nod. “Quite.”

Molly continues over and places a cup carefully in Sebastian's much larger hands. The proportions appear almost farcical, but the almost scalding heat radiating from the porcelain is comforting.

Glee puts biscuits on a plate which she places on the coffee table between them and curls up with her own cup.

Movement behind the couch catches Sebastian's attention and he stiffens, but it's only a cat.

“Toby!” Jim exclaims, sounding genuinely delighted.

Sebastian blinks, wondering if the fumes from the tea are drugged, because since when does Jim appear that openly happy about _anything_ , much less an animal?

The pretty cat darts up to Jim and takes possession of the short man's shoulders. Jim grins indulgently, managing to keep all of the scalding tea within the teacup.

“Have you missed me, Tobes?” he purrs.

The cat butts Jim with his face, tail flicking affectionately.

Glee snorts. “If your men could see you now.”

Jim gives her a disparaging look, leaning into Toby's contact. “Whatever, Nose.”

She rolls her eyes. “It's a cute nose.”

He hums nonchalantly, amused and seeming to have relaxed whatever nerves she had brought out in him earlier.

“So,” Glee opens. “What's the story?”

Jim tenses a little, causing Toby to mewl crossly. “You know the story.”

Molly sips her tea slowly then shakes her head. “No… I knew how you _felt_ about him, but you didn't tell me how this happened.”

Jim squirms and puts his tea down on the coffee table.

Sebastian stares into his tea. “'Him'?” he queries bravely.

Jim throws a mild glare at the blond. “Yes, you,” he grumbles.

Glee kicks off her heels and makes herself comfortable. “Wow, how did he not throw himself at you immediately?”

Jim glowers. “Shut up, Molls.”

“See, this is your problem, Jim,” Glee points out. “You can only be nice when you're pretending it's not important.”

He bares his teeth and pulls Toby into his lap for comfort. “Yeah, well, this is important,” he mutters.

The woman glances between the men. “Have you told Moran that?” she asks Jim.

The dark-haired man scowls. “He knows, okay? Shut up.”

“Right here,” Sebastian mutters.

Jim's gaze flicks over reluctantly. “I know,” he sighs.

“Oh this is pathetic,” Molly comments. “How did you ever get together?”

Sebastian shrugs and raises his brows at his partner. It had taken a frustrating, inordinate amount of time for Jim's odd games to become blatant foreplay. It took even longer for the flirting to really go anywhere.

“I always take what I want,” Jim states.

“Eventually,” Sebastian murmurs.

Jim glances over and curls his lip. “You could always have taken a lead role you know.”

Sebastian chuckles disparagingly. “Oh yes, because making a move on my criminal kingpin boss wouldn't have come with any risks.”

Jim raises his brows, imagining Sebastian taking the hint far fucking earlier and… well. Making Jim's life far easier, to put it politely.

Instead it had taken months… _years_ , actually, before Jim had dared make his feelings known. After no little amount of encouragement and badgering from Bronagh. 

Glee glances across at Sebastian. “So apart from being an idiot, how's Jim treating you?”

Sebastian twitches his lips. “Relatively speaking, it's fine.”

“Meaning he's emotionally stunted and seems like he's just asking to be throttled most of the time,” Molly suggests.

Sebastian cannot help but bark out a laugh, even though he knows it will make Jim glower. “Something like that,” the blond admits.

“Have you no loyalty at all?” Jim sulks.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I'm sure you'll take it out of my hide later, boss.”

A small smirk of amusement spreads across Jim's face. He pets Toby casually and comments, “Careful Bastian, you don't want to sound too _eager_.”

Sebastian chuckles. He should probably feel wary having such a conversation before Hooper, but he feels strangely relaxed around her now that they are in her home. Perhaps she did drug his tea.

Glee is gazing at them each in turn with a soft, fond look.

Jim picks his tea back up and sips it pensively. “Mollikins?”

The brunette pathologist turns to him attentively.

He smirks boyishly at her. “Don't you think this situation could be much improved with the addition of some quality alcohol?”

She surprises Sebastian by laughing softly. “Jimmy, I don't have anything painfully expensive enough for you to approve of, as you well know.”

He rolls his neck casually. “Oh well, I suppose the cheap stuff will do.”

Molly rolls her eyes. “Brat,” she scolds fondly. “Are you sure Moran won't dump you once he's seen you singing along to _Glee_?”

Jim pouts. “Bastian, you wouldn't be so judgemental, would you? I'm fucking adorable.”

Sebastian blinks slowly. Jim is many things, but the blond is in no way familiar with a version that could ever possibly be described as 'adorable'.


	6. Chapter 6

Sebastian has seen Jim drink alcohol before, has even seen the uptight little man drunk, but he has never seen Jim quite like this before. Molly had dutifully fetched some spirits to add to their tea, and then they'd opened some wine… and honestly, Jim was being a messy, affectionate drunk.

Sebastian was torn between banning Jim from mixing drinks ever again, and plying Jim with such substances at every available safe opportunity.

Jim had started off just being a bit more loose-tongued than usual, then he'd started being a bit freer with touching. Then he'd started singing to the cat and hugging Hooper.

Sebastian is astonished when Jim wobbles over and drops down confidently in the bigger man's lap. Jim's arms immediately go up around Sebastian's broad shoulders. The chief of staff curls his own strong arms around the brunet reflexively, a little unnerved by Jim's unusually free behaviour.

Jim gives a sloppy, warm smile and squeezes Sebastian affectionately.

Molly watches with eyes that miss nothing. “Jimmy, love, you're making your blond nervous.”

Jim looks over quickly then snaps his gaze back to Sebastian. “What's wrong?” the brunet asks with an adorable frown that makes the bigger man want to kiss him.

Sebastian clears his throat. “Nothing...”

“He's presumably not used to you like this and is afraid of taking advantage,” Molly declares into her drink.

Jim blinks at them both with sweet seriousness. “You're so clever, Nose.”

Hooper merely laughs and gives Sebastian a sympathetic look. “Aren't you the clever one, Jimmy?”

Jim purses his lips and nods with wide-eyed seriousness. “Usually.”

Sebastian pulls the smaller man closer with a dubious expression. “He can usually handle his drink better than this?” he mutters to Hooper.

“He's not usually drinking amongst friends,” Molly says tartly.

Jim gives them both a mildly disgruntled look and reaches for the cat. “I can hear you both, you know,” he complains.

Sebastian presses his lips together, reaching out to stroke Jim's dark hair. Molly's words niggle him, because even alone with Jim, Sebastian's never seen the man this casually drunk.

Jim rubs his face against a perfectly pleased Toby. “They're so rude to me, aren't they?”

Sebastian pulls Jim to him yet again. “Sorry sir.”

Jim snorts and gives his chief of staff a frank look. “You don't have to call me that in front of Mollikins. She knows all my dirty secrets, don't you, Moll?”

Hooper smiles. “Heavens, who'd want to know the lot? But I know all the people who know the biggest secrets, yes.”

Jim taps a bemused Sebastian's nose as Toby lolls between them. “That she does,” Jim agrees. “And they all told me to get a move on with you.”

Sebastian blinks and regards Jim. “They did?”

“Mm, for years and years,” Jim agrees with a sloppy nod. He sways a little before burrowing against Sebastian's chest, Toby escaping to a free shoulder.

“And years and years,” Molly mutters.

Jim hears her quiet voice and jabs a finger in her direction. “Hush, peasant. You've only known for years.”

Hooper fixes him with a look. “I know that your last two girlfriends were utter car crashes of relationships, and that your family have been banging their heads against brick walls trying to get you to pin down your big blond.”

Jim crosses his arms and returns his face to Sebastian's chest. “Prefer when he pins me down, personally,” he mumbles.

The blond splutters a little and covers Jim's mouth, because he's certain there'll be trouble from the brunet in the morning if that direction of conversation isn't squashed immediately. It takes Sebastian a moment to register the other element of the conversation.

“What family?” Sebastian frowns.

“The family that keep insisting I bring you to Christmas dinner,” Jim says a little disgustedly.

Sebastian presses his lips together. “You don't see anyone at Christmas. You stay with me.”

“ _You_ stay with _me_ , actually,” Jim corrects.

“Don't get snotty,” Hooper grins. “He ditches family dinners for you, blondie. That's what he's trying to say.”

“I'm trying to say nothing of the sort,” Jim glowers.

“No need to tell lies here, Jimmy,” Glee teases. She smirks at the pair. “Do you know what I heard they were talking about at the last family dinner?”

Jim pales. “We don't need to talk about that.”

Hooper grins and pours more wine. “Don't we?” she says with a faux innocence that fools no one. “I'm sure Sebastian would be interested.”

The big man is torn between loyalty to Jim and the burning curiosity Hooper has piqued. He tries not to let Jim see the interest in his face. Which might be possible for once, because the brunet is sloshed.

Jim narrows his eyes. Sebastian swallows. Apparently not that drunk then. Before Molly can open her mouth again to embarrass Jim further, the small man reluctantly spits, “Breeding.”

Sebastian blinks. “'Breeding'?” he repeats.

Molly grins wide. “They think you should be getting on with things, since it's taken so terribly long for you both to get together.”

Sebastian gives Jim a look. “Do catch me up love. Now.”

“Children,” Jim admits reluctantly. “They think we should be having children. What would I do with a child?” Jim rambles on. 

The blond raises his brows. “Actual children? Things requiring attention and care? From you?”

Jim gazes back at Sebastian, not even listening. “You'd probably make a good mum, but I can't have you in the nursery. You're far too good at your job.”

Sebastian swallows, trying to quell his rising blush and panic. “Jim, we can't have children.”

Jim suddenly puts Toby on the floor, and Sebastian feels immediately threatened. “What do you mean, we can't have children? The amount of slags you copped off with over the years you could probably make your own football league of little bastard Morans.”

Sebastian has no idea how to process the abrupt, blatant jealousy on Jim's face. The blond clears his throat uncomfortably. “It's not like I knew you were seriously interested in me back then.”

“That's not the point!” Jim snaps. “If I decide I want babies you will damn well give me babies, Sebastian!”

The blond swallows. “Do… You want babies?”

“No,” Jim snorts, “but that's not the point, Bastian.”

“Oh. Anyhing for you, Jim,” Sebastian answers warily.

Jim nods sulkily. He turns suddenly as he notices Glee take out her phone. “What are you doing?” he demands.

“Texting Bro, what else?” the brunette drawls casually.

Jim surprises Sebastian by throwing his little skull back and groaning childishly. “No. We're not involving her.”

Hooper glances up and smirks. “I told her you were drinking. She's coming over.”

“She's supposed to be working,” Jim huffs.

“And you're supposed to be a big boy, but you can't do anything without some handholding,” Molly says without looking up, texting rapidly.

Jim throws his empty glass at her feet. “Take that back!”

She snorts, glancing up with a comfortable smirk. “Will I tell Stardust here that you need a good, long timeout?”

Jim purses his lips again. “Fucking conspiracy,” he mutters.

He glances up as Sebastian rubs his dark scalp soothingly. Jim smiles gratefully, his mouth spreading into a smile as the bigger man gives him a kiss.

“What the hell is going on?” Sebastian asks softly.

“Women,” Jim grumbles. “Fucking women in my life, Sebs.”

Sebastian pats Jim's head awkwardly. He's so out of his fucking depth, and really, really lost. Jim slams his forehead into Sebastian's chest, snuggling in again, and throws out his arm. “Bring me my cat!”

Molly picks up Jim's plastic wine glass with her toes and places it on the table as she continues to text Bronagh. “You're not the king of everything, Jimmy,” she responds.

“I damn well am!” the brunet howls. “Get her, Bastian.”

Sebastian purses his lips for a moment. “Wouldn't you rather I held you?” he suggests.

Jim considers. He picks up Toby gently and nods imperiously. “Yes.”


	7. Chapter 7

Stardust rocks into Molly's flat with a drunken flamboyance, an impractically cold spandex outfit, and several layers of body glitter which seem to break off into the air of alcohol around her.

“Irishhhh!” she cries happily, flying towards the small brunet and tackling him in a surprisingly careful hug. Jim bats at her face, grimacing at the glitter which comes off onto his hand. She rubs her face into his own deliberately then steps away with a smirk. “Don't pretend you don't love it.”

“You were supposed to be working, Stardust,” Jim scolds, trying to look serious although the amount of wine is turning his nose pink.

The woman reaches into the groin of her tiny little leotard thing through the slit in the stomach area. Sebastian does not know where to look, but then Stardust pulls out a small folding knife and tosses it down casually on Molly's coffee table.

“Job's done; I'm off the clock,” she says nonchalantly.

“I thought you said you didn't drink?” Sebastian mumbles.

“Didn't drink _wine_ , handsome,” Stardust corrects. She ruffles his short hair, winking at his stunned look, and bounces over to Hooper. “Mollyyyyyyy!”

The pathologist smiles widely and embraces the shorter woman, not seeming surprised when Stardust drops down in her lap.

“What have I missed?” Stardust asks.

“We've been telling Sebastian how Jim misses Christmas dinners for him,” Molly explains.

Stardust's eyes light up. “Ooh, but you know about us now. You get to come!”

Sebastian pales. “To a family dinner? A Moriarty family dinner?”

“It'll be fun!” Stardust grins. “I'll tell them to be nice to you.”

Molly playfully grips the woman's short hair and pulls Stardust's skull back. Smiling into her face, Glee points out, “He hasn't clicked yet.”

“About what?” Stardust asks, looking completely comfortable with being held thus.

Sebastian stares at the women, then at Jim, who is rubbing his face into Toby's body and pretending not to listen. A name like Bronagh, well maybe, but those accents don't match and their colouring doesn't match…

But Sebastian's never seen Jim so comfortable with someone else before, and she's got a bit of that madcap independent streak Jim has…

Stardust smirks at Sebastian. “ _I'm_ not his family in the traditional sense,” she explains, as though that makes anything a jot clearer.

Molly's lips twitch. “Are you anything in the traditional sense?”

Stardust's eyes glitter as she gives a sharklike smile. Sebastian does not want to know the in jokes passing between the women.

Stardust rolls over and stretches out, completely unselfconscious about her position. Hooper runs her fingers over the glitter coating Stardust's sweaty back, but there's no fire in the touch. Sebastian cannot read it.

“I haven't heard from your brother, so I'm presuming you haven't gotten that far on your list yet,” Stardust comments. “Or Frenchie either...”

Sebastian blinks and turns to look at Jim, who does his best to look away. “You have a _brother_?”

Jim dives up to refill his glass, but Sebastian swoops up and drags the smaller man back to their seat. “You have a brother?” the big blond repeats.

“I was working up to that,” Jim mumbles.

Sebastian quite forgets for a moment that they have an audience. He puts his palm on Jim's thigh warningly and asks, “Why are you throwing all this new stuff on me? Why didn't you tell me before?”

Jim squirms, totally comfortable with Sebastian's hand where it is, but abashed by his blond's stern expression. “Wasn't ready before...”

Sebastian swallows. “But you're ready now?”

Jim snorts. “No. But I'm trying to be.”

“That's big for him,” Hooper says, as though Sebastian didn't know, her fingers stilling just a bit on Stardust's skin.

“Baby Jimmy's growing up!” Stardust exclaims. She twists around and reaches for a bottle. “We should have shots!”

Jim surprises Sebastian by grinning. “You want to get drunk with my big sister and my ex girlfriend, Bastian?”

Stardust rolls her eyes. “I'm _practically_ your Mommy, Jimmy-boy.”

Jim wrinkles his nose. It makes Sebastian's heart twinge a little. “Yeah,” the brunet acknowledges, “but me Mam was a cunt, Bro, and you're better than that. You've looked after me.”

“You looked after me right back, Irish,” Bronagh smiles. She pours out a few measures and passes them around.

Sebastian stares into his glass, then at the others. Pulling an arm around Jim's middle, the big blond asks, “So what was His Highness like growing up?”

Stardust snorts. “Stubborn. Opinionated. _Clever_ , but sometimes fucking dense. A bit weird, if I'm honest.”

“Not much has changed,” Molly mutters playfully into her drink before knocking it back.

Jim scowls at them. “I was _gifted_. And practical, and charming and unappreciated.”

“Tough,” Stardust adds with a nod. “And fucking clingy.”

Molly laughs uproariously as Jim exclaims in protest loudly. Sebastian tries to hide a smirk.

“That doesn't seem to surprise you,” Stardust grins at the blond.

Sebastian raises his brows and pins Jim's arms to avoid getting punched. “Should it?”

“I'm not fucking clingy!” Jim protests.

“You are a bit,” Glee reasons. “Not in general, no, but with people you trust, absolutely.”

“Needy as well,” Stardust teases.

“I will gut you,” Jim warns.

“Be nice to your sister,” Molly scolds playfully.

“You should all be nice to me!” Jim retorts.

“Honey, we love you; we don't have to play nice,” Stardust winks.

“I hate women,” Jim grumbles.

Hooper laughs. “Oh don't we know that? The _state_ of you when Eurus dumped you.”

“She didn't dump me!” Jim grumbles, aggravated. “No one dumps me. Apart from you.”

“Because you sparkle,” Molly counters.

“And that isn't your type?” Jim retorts.

Stardust laughs and unsuccessfully tries to brush glitter from the couch. “I'm not. My greysexual ass is far too complicated for Mollikins.”

Jim scoffs. “She only does 'complicated' people.”

“Maybe for once I'd like a simple relationship,” Glee responds.

Stardust props herself up on her elbows. “If me and her got together, then broke up, would you have to kill us both? Or would you finally stop trying to kill off our exes?”

“When I kill you both it won't be because of your sex lives,” Jim says sourly.

The women chuckle playfully. Whatever further retort Jim is about to share dies in his throat as Toby beds down in his lap. Jim sighs and lies back calmly against Sebastian, petting the napping cat.

Sebastian brushes his face against Jim's scalp. “So. This family of yours. How big is it?”

Stardust and Glee grin widely. “One bigger now, finally.”

Jim positively glares at the women, but Sebastian notes that the small man does not feel tense at all.


	8. Chapter 8

Jim, as Sebastian rightfully expects, has a very sore head the next morning. The brunet growls and glowers and kicks against the duvet and curses at the brave chink of light sneaking past the closed curtains.

Sebastian brings the small man a tall glass of cool water which fizzes with the contents of a sachet of Resolve. Jim wrinkles his nose at the mineral smell as he creeps his nostrils towards the bubbling liquid.

“Wuzzatt?” the suffering criminal asks suspiciously.

Sebastian knows better than to roll his eyes. “S'for your hangover. It'll make you feel better.”

Jim grimaces and the big blond tenses as he prepares himself to push the issue, but Jim surprisingly relents without much fuss. A small, white hand reaches out for the glass and Sebastian has to dive forward a few steps to stop the fool knocking its contents over the bedding.

Jim does not apologise, of course, but he blinks meekly enough at Sebastian that the blond recognises what is unsaid. Sebastian steadies the glass and holds it to Jim's dry lips.

Jim exclaims childishly and fussily tries to push the drink away.

“It'll help,” Sebastian rebukes firmly.

“It tastes horrible!” Jim complains. “I'd rather eat my own-”

“Don't make me pinch your nose, love,” Sebastian warns. “This is going in you one way or the other.”

It is a testament to how delicate the brunet feels that Jim folds easily. “Fine,” he sniffs, reluctantly trying to swallow some of the noxious beverage. He gags exaggeratedly, spreading his tongue flat down upon his chin. “It's awful, 'Bastian!” he whines.

“Well maybe you should listen to me in future and pace yourself better,” Sebastian reasons. “Now be a good boy and take some more.”

Jim gives his partner a mild death glare. “I don't remember any of last night,” he mumbles.

Sebastian raises a brow. “Save the fibs for once this is in your belly. Come on: ahh.”

“I'm not a liar,” Jim grumbles weakly. “And I'm not an infant. You don't need to baby me.”

Sebastian tilts the glass a little and forces Jim to shut up and swallow. “Good boy. Almost done.”

Jim pushes away but reluctantly permits Sebastian to gently wipe away the wetness at the sides of his mouth after the unexpected drink. “S'disgusting,” Jim complains meekly.

“I'll give you a cuddle afterwards,” Sebastian bargains. “Last bit now. Big, brave bloke like you can tolerate a little bad taste in his mouth.”

Jim blinks. “I'm not clingy,” he protests.

“You're hungover to hell; I'm not going to judge you,” Sebastian murmurs.

Jim swallows. He nods and leans forwards to take the last of the medicine.

Sebastian smiles and pets the brunet approvingly before putting the empty glass aside. “There now. That'll make you feel better.”

Jim immediately crawls back into a ball and observes Sebastian quietly. The small hand reaches out from under the duvet again.

Sebastian smiles and gives the hand a gentle squeeze. “You need your heat source, Not Clingy?”

“Get in the bed,” Jim rasps quietly.

Sebastian presses a kiss on the sweating man's temple and carefully climbs in at Jim's side. The brunet barely hesitates before latching on.

“You tell anyone about this and I'll kill you,” Jim whispers.

Sebastian squeezes his employer's bottom. “Who am I going to tell? Your brother?”

Jim pales and looks away immediately. “How… How d'you..?”

“It's about time you opened up to me,” Sebastian grumbles gently into the smaller man's clammy neck. “I'm glad you did.”

“You're not angry?” Jim asks quietly.

Sebastian presses his lips together and leans back to look Jim in the face. “Maybe? It's not like I didn't know you were keeping things from me at the start, but… It's been years, love.”

The other man makes the unusual gesture of looking openly into Sebastian's blue eyes. “I don't trust easily,” the brunet says.

“I know,” Sebastian replies generously. “It's just… not the backstory I imagined, possibly. I'm adjusting, boss.”

Jim reaches up to pet Sebastian's hair. “I know, Tiger. Thank you… for your patience.”

The blond's lips twitch. “So how many people actually get to see this side of you and live? I thought it made me special...”

Jim barks out a laugh. “Oh, you're special all right. That's why they're all so damned interested.”

Sebastian's expression flickers. “Christmas dinner, eh?”

Jim looks tempted to pull the duvet over his head. “I'm too hungover for this talk,” he whines.

Sebastian chuckles. “Exactly, that's why I'm asking now, when you're too vulnerable to punish me.”

Jim squirms around to give his lover a huffy look. “I can have you killed from here, Sebastian darling.”

“Mm, but I think Star and Hooper would have something to say about that,” Sebastian purrs playfully in Jim's ear.

The smaller man makes a disgusted noise. “The betrayal has started already, has it? I thought better of you, Moran.”

Sebastian snorts and kisses the shell of the flushed ear beneath his lips. “No you didn't.”

“Well I was right then, wasn't I?” Jim grumbles back, burrowing into Sebastian's warm body unapologetically.

Sebastian pulls the criminal as close as possible without making his hungover lover nauseous. “Mm, I'm a bad boy. And you're too weak to spank me.”

“I'm not too weak to bite you,” Jim warns darkly.

“Promise?” Sebastian teases, eyes glittering. He gasps and hisses as the brunet follows through. Pulling Jim away carefully by a fistful of dark hair, Sebastian laughs and looks down at the vivid red circle on his chest.

“Vicious little animal. I should have you put down,” Sebastian says in amusement.

“You'll do no such thing,” Jim states comfortably. He licks the teethmarks confidently and leans close.

Sebastian chortles. “Where's my phone, motherfucker? I'm going to show your big sister what you do to me. Wife beater.”

“Don't you dare,” Jim growls, pinching one of Sebastian's pink nipples. “I'll never hear the end of it.”

“Well at least we'll have something to talk about over the turkey dinner,” Sebastian states.

Jim groans. “I'm too hungover for this bullshit,” he whines.

“Well maybe you shouldn't drink so much,” Sebastian reasons.

“I was imparting big secrets last night,” Jim argues.

Sebastian walks his fingertips gently over the other man's features. “Even more reason why you shouldn't have thrown up all over Hooper's carpets.”

“I didn't!” Jim exclaims, aghast.

“Thought you couldn't remember?” Sebastian teases smugly.

Jim huffs and buries his face into the bigger man's hot chest again. “I hate you.”

“You don't, and you're a bit old for that one, aren't you?” Sebastian grins.

“No,” Jim sulks.

Sebastian smiles and curls forward to kiss the back of Jim's neck. “I don't believe you. But if you can't see me, maybe we should have a talk about your brother?”

Jim makes a petulant noise against Sebastian's warm skin. “I don't want to.”

“I make you do plenty of things you don't want to.”

“I'm not talking to you,” Jim states.

Sebastian strokes the brunet's neck. “Yes you are.”

Jim huffs softly. “Brothers plural, kind of. Two dead ones, with my name, and a live one, called Richard.”

“Three James?” Sebastian questions.

“High mortality rates,” Jim mutters unconvincingly.

“Well, I hope 'Bloodbag' on your list isn't your nickname for your other brother,” Sebastian says.

Jim laughs, the pitch a little high. “It isn't,” he replies.


	9. Chapter 9

Bloodbag, as it turns out, is a man paid to do as he pleases provided he stays healthy and offers his blood for transfusions to Jim whenever needed, at any time of the day or night, with little or no warning.

Jim raises one brow at Sebastian's grimace. “You don't turn your nose up at our organ harvesting. I like _mine_ fresh.”

“I _do_ complain about the trade in bodyparts, actually,” Sebastian corrects, “and I hope you're joking about his organs.”

Jim gives a look that suggests he isn't joking at all, and Sebastian is glad the next few names on the list are not nearly so dark in nature.

“Fancy doing some actual work again for a change?” Jim asks afterwards.

Sebastian agrees quickly. He later supposes Jim deliberately unsettled him to ensure his enthusiasm for the task.

It's a dubious one.

“You think Star's going to like this?” Sebastian asks.

Jim shrugs. “A princess pays me to orchestrate a revolution in her country and track down her exiled ex-lover. It's niche work. Is there anyone else she could go to that _wouldn't_ get Bronagh killed?”

“Somehow I'm unconvinced you are doing this for the good of your kin,” Sebastian chides.

Jim blinks as though -despite all of the characters he has recently shared with Sebastian- he is still unused to being spoken to sternly.

The shorter man steps backwards and sniffs haughtily. “You'll find your new passport on your desk,” Jim states in a clipped voice.

Sebastian raises his brows. “Jimmy-boy you had better not be mad at me right now...”

Jim narrows his dark eyes petulantly. He stands and moves to stalk off. Sebastian sighs and grabs for Jim's arm, creases on the expensive shirt sleeve be damned.

Jim looks down at Sebastian's large hand. The bigger man's grip is firm but not painful. They both know that Sebastian is much stronger than Jim. They both know Sebastian does not abuse this fact and they both know Sebastian rarely argues. Jim gives the muscular man a Look.

“Jimmy, she'll be _pissed_ ,” Sebastian warns.

Jim curls his upper lip derisively. “You're speaking as though you have any experience on the subject. How long have _you_ known Bro?”

Sebastian leans in. “I know _you_ and I can tell you know she'll be pissed.”

Jim growls softly. “Well I'm doing it anyway.”

“Jim-”

“Anyone else would fuck it up,” the criminal consultant reasons. He twists his wrist away from his chief of staff and tuts at the wrinkles in the fabric of his sleeve. “I have packed what you shall wear.”

Sebastian rubs his forehead. “Jim...”

“You're going to meet a beautiful princess, Tiger,” Jim states as though not listening to his partner at all, “ _and_ it's been far too long since we've toppled a government together.”

Sebastian inhales slowly through his nostrils. He parts pink lips and sloooowly expels his breath. “You could at least ask your sister what she thinks of all this.”

Jim saunters away from the bigger man. “I need do no such thing, and you'll go fetch your passport. We're leaving for the airport in an hour.”

Sebastian crosses his arms impressively. “I have Stardust's file thanks to you. What if I phone her _right now_ and ask for her input on this?”

Jim crooks his fingers to his chin and does not quite hide a predatory, challenging slice of teeth. “Wouldn't it be _shocking_ if your phone were to just… say… _combust_ in your great ape paw?”

Sebastian gives the smaller man a glower. “Don't threaten me like one of your flunkies.”

Jim turns and steps through the doorframe. “I'm going to be on that plane. If you're not with me you can consider your position terminated.”

“If you want to act like a brat, James, I can certainly remind you that I'm not just your employee,” Sebastian warns sharply.

Jim sneers over his shoulder. “Well you'd best leave that until we reach our hotel room because we're on a _schedule_ , darling, and you'll probably want to check I didn't pack your case poorly just to spite you.”

“Sweetheart, you might want to remember that I know Bronagh has survived giving you a good slap over the years,” Sebastian says sweetly. “Do you want to be able to _sit_ for the journey?”

Jim turns to face his lover and lifts his chin in challenge. He purrs, “Does that not sound like a motive to you as to why I might pursue this little endeavour?”

Sebastian barks out a laugh which causes Jim's eyes to widen in surprise. “That's the _stupidest_ lie I've yet heard out of that mouth of yours,” the blond declares with evident amusement.

Jim drops most of his attitude. “What gives you that idea?” he asks with a confused frown.

Sebastian snorts like an unimpressed horse. “ _Anyone_ who sees the pair of you together knows that you care deeply for each other.” Sebastian does not bother to add that he is not blind, as it is the sort of comment Jim might take as motive to threaten, 'not _yet_.'

Instead the brunet shrugs. “She's very loyal and protective. It would be hard not to be fond of her, given how long we have known each other.”

“'Fond' is insulting, firstly, and secondly, you're missing the part where she evidently loves _you_ ,” Sebastian rejoins.

Jim raises his brows. “Is that so difficult?”

“Speaking as the man who loves you, shares your bed, and bears the brunt of all your theatrics, _yes_ ,” Sebastian states. “I don't even need to imagine how torturous your are to your sister, _since you want to fly us half-way around the world to help her be stalked by her ex who let her get_...mutilated.”

“Bronagh's not my biological sister,” Jim says flatly.

“Yeah, because that's the important point to pick at from that,” Sebastian scoffs. 

Jim swallows and takes the playfully belligerent cast from his shoulders. “'Bastian. Have you ever known me to lack insight?”

Sebastian's frame deflates a little but he mutters, “Only for about the first decade and a half that we've known each other...”

Jim purses his lips. “Was that a jibe about our relationship, cretin? Because you _know_ I don't do… feelings and… claptrap.”

“That's exactly my point!” Sebastian exclaims exasperatedly. “You're meddling with things that… could almost certainly blow up in your face.”

Jim massages his temples. “Just go get your _fucking_ passport please, Tiger.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Ah, the Little Brother! Welcome, welcome!”

Sebastian casts Jim an unimpressed look as the idiotic genius leads them towards the princess Sebastian is rather certain they shouldn't be meddling with. 

She's attractive of course but not quite in the way he expected. Her face is almost round; not heavy, but with a softness that belies the way her dark eyes glitter. They aren't the big, wet, brown cow eyes of a suffering princess. Her eyes are small but sharply intelligent beneath black lashes and sweeping brows.

There's something more commanding about her than Sebastian had expected from Jim's description.

“Your Royal Highness,” Jim says calmly. He flicks a hand at his chief of staff. “My man, Moran, of course.”

“Of course,” she says. She gestures regally with her dainty hands. “And you, of course, are Moriarty.”

Jim's lips quirk and he spreads out his arms as he performs a small pirouette. “Here to serve you.”

“Ah, and you are so wonderful at fulfilling desires, yes?” the princess drawls. “Because I have many...”

Sebastian blinks at her. Jim grins and takes another step forward, dipping in a quick, faux chivalrous bow. “Multitudes of desires keep me in business, your Highness. It's what I trade in.”

Her smile changed then. Suddenly Sebastian understood why Bronagh had been entangled with this woman and not some other beauty.

“I want the usual things,” the princess declared, “true love; a bloody, fiery reckoning; another expensive horse...”

She trailed off and gave Sebastian a positively salacious look that made him quite uncomfortable. “Of course,” she said to Jim, “if you want to throw in a night with _this_ one for your sister and I… I'll tip you well.”

Jim smirked at Sebastian then shook his head at the princess. “As long as he's a good boy for me he won't be for sale.”

“Pity,” says the princess. “He's a pretty bauble. No matter! You shall bring me many _pleasures_ I'm sure.”

“I'll give you what you pay for,” Jim states.

“Clever,” she says calmly. “Your sister tells me you have a secret crown on your head, King of Shadows. Take the crown of my enemies and you can keep it for yourself should it please you.”

Jim inclines his head and gives an enigmatic smile. He could have her crown too, if he want, Sebastian knows. If she knows Bronagh well enough to ask for Jim's services this princess probably knows it too.

For a plotting monarch she seems to have a lot of free time. The princess and Jim spend _hours_ hashing out relevant details, and then hours more on ones which bore Sebastian to tears.

Eventually the princess insists that they tie up negotiations and plotting for the day and drink together. “I want to know your real thoughts,” she grins, “I never trust a man who has not been roaring drunk before me. There's honesty in stupidity.”

Sebastian purses his lips uncomfortably.

“I do drink,” the princess says with a jagged smile. “As you can surely tell I am a … modern woman.”

“It's not a good habit,” Sebastian cautions.

She winks at him. “Neither is denying a princess.”

“Perhaps he's worried I'll let you borrow him,” Jim smirks. He looks genuinely amused at Sebastian's discomfort.

“He would be so lucky,” she purrs. She's enjoying it too, Sebastian can tell.

“I'd rather not get castrated,” Sebastian mutters.

Jim gives him a warning look. Sebastian reluctantly concedes to the madness.

At least Jim has the sense to get only 'work drunk'. The chief of staff is grateful not to deal with a snuggly, ridiculous employer in front of _this_ woman.

“Drink _up_ ,” she insists.

“I'm working,” Sebastian responds politely.

“And I am of royal blood; when I tell a man to do something I expect him to jump to it!” the princess responds. Her eyes are only part joking.

“With all due respect, Your Highness, if someone appeared wanted to quash your rebellion I would not be as effective dealing with them whilst inebriated,” Sebastian reasons.

“Ooh, he's so _serious_ ,” she snorts to Jim.

“He's a good boy. Sometimes,” Jim replies. He pats his chief of staff warmly. Sebastian swallows a sour response.

“Bronagh's wilful too,” the princess. “So serious sometimes.” Sebastian swallows the retort that Bro _ought_ to be, around this woman who got her _castrated_. Oblivious, the princess smiles. “Of course, she can be so _wild_ too. As I'm sure you're aware.”

Jim nods. “She managed to rein me in a fair few times when we were growing up, but she was also good at helping me remember to have fun. I'm grateful for her.”

“I miss her horribly,” the princess declares.

For a moment Sebastian feels a shred of sympathy for the woman but then he remembers she has not asked after Bronagh's wellbeing once.

Spoilt princess. Sebastian's only the son of a lord himself but he _knows_ what this sort of upbringing does to a person. Never is there an insightful thought into how their actions truly impact other people. People are simply pawns to the rich, and being bodyguard to _this_ princess must have put Bronagh in such a terrible position. 

Sebastian remembers the look of pity and anger on Jim's face when he first mentioned Bronagh's castration. 

Why on _earth_ would Jim take on this job? Why would the supposed genius risk upsetting Bronagh with all of this?

The woman hardly seemed to be pining back home for her beautiful, domineering princess.

Although Bronagh previously complained that Jim tended to kill off the majority of her exes, often in a bloody fashion. Sebastian wonders as the princess gets increasingly intoxicated whether Jim might have rather different intentions for her than the ones the brunet cited earlier. Perhaps this job is to be less about staging a coup in a turbulent middle eastern country and reuniting wronged, separated lovers than it is about punishing the woman and the country which caused Jim's adopted kin such pain.


	11. Chapter 11

This is not the first time Jim has worked to overthrow a ruling class and it's not the first time they have had to deal with a difficult monarch either.

It is, however, exceptionally hard work, and Sebastian hates it.

Normally he doesn't care how difficult the job is as long as Jim doesn't get too stressed. Jim is eating and sleeping without too much bullying but this stands out to Sebastian as a more strained job than most he can remember.

The princess' relationship with Bronagh makes all of this so personal. It is _different_.

As far as princesses go, Sebastian supposes this one is not terrible. She takes an interest in the welfare of her people and wants to change various unpleasant, outdated practises. Unfortunately, like most people born to power, she has a limited view of the world and whilst she might be a 'modern woman' as far as her life situation is concerned, she is still… well, a monarch.

A woefully out of touch one too, considering her lover was chemically castrated for daring consort with her. She has no real understanding of consequences. No real understanding of _humanity_.

Sebastian checks himself. He is the chief of staff for a notoriously powerful consulting criminal and has spent much more than a decade of his life as a sniper. If anyone has any right to protest the cheapness of life it is not him.

And yet.

Sebastian hates this woman and everything about being here. But then, he could never treat Jim the way the princess has treated Bronagh.

“A significant relationship does not mean the same thing to everyone, surely even you recognise that, 'Bastian,” is what Jim says about it.

“This woman thinks that by taking control of her country and possibly making some laws more lady-friendly that it should make Bronagh love her. She's not even looking to be _absolved_ for what happened,” Sebastian protests.

“Love is just a word. It's not what she's looking for,” Jim replies.

“So why are we helping?” Sebastian asks in frustration.

Jim does not give a clear answer. “Is a life without excitement worth living, 'Bastian?”

“Whose excitement?” Sebastian demands.

Jim sighs.

Sebastian does his best to grit his teeth and get on with things, despite his distaste for the whole sorry experience. And then… he starts to notice things going wrong.

Just a little. Jim's supposed plans are not going as well as foretold. The reigning despot who usurped Bronagh's ex is not crumbling from every second of Jim's plotting.

The princess is not regaining her throne, and the country is falling to war. Blood runs in the streets away from either ruler.

“Jim...” Sebastian murmurs.

The consulting criminal merely winks. “Count the holes, 'Bastian.”

The chief of staff swallows. He remembers quite well being shown photos from Google Earth of Syria's riddled earth. With the people and the government far more attentive to the bombing looters were raiding the country's history, selling antiques to Janus figures who would have documentations forged, border officials bribed, and very rich buyers glad to buy the spoils of a torn nation.

Jim had made a lot of money from the shameful turbulence. He had shown Sebastian the photos to explain the profitable ripple effects of a ravaged country, and the blond's nerves rise with his dawning understanding. Jim is not trying to help the princess, nor is he seeking to murder her. He is going to destroy the country and the smirking brunet will even profit from it.

Sebastian keeps his head down. He finds it easier not to grind his teeth as the round-faced princess toys with his temper, but he also feels a little bad for her. It is not her fault that she was never raised to understand true empathy. He feels worse for her people, who don't deserve a war played out by other people's agendas.

But Sebastian was a soldier, and he is the chief of staff to the world's only consulting criminal. He understands that life is cheap and power play is an addictive game. As such, he goes along with Jim's alluded to plan.

Sebastian sheds no tears when the princess almost gets herself killed. He wonders how it will affect Jim's pay, and whether Jim cares about the money or whatever price it was he agreed to. The consulting criminal never mentioned.

He surprises Sebastian by ordering the blond to save the woman's neck. Sebastian does not spare thoughts on the reason; he does as he is told and is not greeted with gratitude. She leaves bloody scratches down his skin as he deposits her out of harm's way. He doubts she cares a jot for how tired or wired he may feel after the real risks he has taken to pull her from immediate, severe danger.

“My plans are in _ruins_ ,” she spits.

Sebastian barely spares her a glance. “There are fates far worse than exile, princess.”

She stares at him hard with those dark little eyes then turns away in disgust. Sebastian doesn't much care. He plots a sensible escape route with Jim and does his job well as he always does.

They find themselves in said exile together and Sebastian notes with unspoken exasperation that Jim seems unsurprised by the development. Over the years Sebastian has gotten good at understanding his lover's plans, but some are convoluted beyond his understanding. He doesn't need to ask sometimes. He just goes with things. And fantasises about all the ways he could prevent the princess from grating on his nerves.

She's gotten quieter though. Sebastian rather thinks at first she is simply in shock at having lost so much power and wealth at once. She seems more traumatised now than she ever did after what happened to her one time lover Bronagh.

Sebastian wonders whether that is part of the plan. He is slowly starting to miss Jim's oddball gallery of rogues and hopes that whatever Jim's plan is, it involves them going home soon. Just the _two_ of them.


	12. Chapter 12

Hiding out in a war-torn, sandy country with a criminal kingpin and a disgraced royal is not outside the realms of Sebastian Moran's experience. What little novelty he finds in the situation quickly wears off, and he begins to fervently long for home. The blond is deeply tempted to snap the princess' neck so that he can tell Jim the plan is a bust and drag his little consulting criminal back to England.

Which is unfair, really, because the princess has been much less of a spitting mad, spoilt bitch recently. She is kind of funny, and her defining trait of bold arrogance means she is being rather brave about the whole living in exile thing. She's rather fearless and willful, and Sebastian has always liked those characteristics in a woman.

Jim is not, for the most part, a sociable creature. Sharing quarters with a stranger -even a stranger who has lived with his adopted sister- is not easy for the Irishman. His temper thins, but surprisingly Jim does not grow as irate as Sebastian expects. Jim's propensity to a soured mood is cushioned somewhat by the intelligent conversations he can hold with the admittedly witty and educated princess, but Sebastian very much doubts such chat is enough to raise Jim's spirits so. 

As usual, Jim knows something he is not sharing. If they ever got any privacy Sebastian would have given his lover's lovely arse a fierce squeeze and firmly demanded to know the consulting criminal's plans. Unfortunately for both men's libidos they barely seem to manage being out of eye line of the princess, never mind comfortably out of hearing range.

Sebastian is not convinced Jim did not plan things this way. The exasperating little brunet has a terrible habit of orchestrating circumstances which prevent Sebastian from questioning him.

As things stand, Sebastian still isn't certain events are not following Jim's own design when their hideout is attacked and breeched by former rebels, now calling themselves (to the princess' naked fury) 'royalists'.

Jim has a habit of being eerily calm when under gunfire and significant threat from multiple armed sources. He is not especially afraid of death, and more perturbing to Sebastian still, is that Jim generally always wears an expression of a mad genius who knows far more than his fool attackers, however gifted or well-trained those aggressors may be.

The princess does not have a habit of being thankfully serene during a surge of her enemies. Oh, no. She bares her white teeth and shrieks and throws things and is entirely blinded by her privileged upbringing to the fact that she is actually entirely mortal and at the mercy of any weapon directed her way.

It does not make her any different from many of Sebastian's principals from years gone by, but it does make him hate her a little.

He hates her a lot when she doesn't stay put like he damned well told her to (considering how many rules royals have to follow they are damned terrible at following directions that are in place to maintain their rotten lives) and she throws herself into the path of danger like an _insane person_.

This is not remotely outside of the realms of Jim's usual behaviour, but it's not cute when Jim does it either, and the princess is not in a position to make it up to Seb with some really satisfying sex and an expensive gun.

Admittedly it is even _less_ cute when Jim orders Sebastian to save the fool princess. The blond gives his employer a dry look and turns to scan their surroundings as he formulates a plan of his own.

“Alright,” Sebastian says quietly. “I'm going to get you to that cover over there, and then I'll go after her.”

Which was an alright plan, in theory. It proves to be far less so in practise.

It has been a damned long time since Sebastian has gotten shot, and had he had a bit more control over the sorry situation, he would have rather preferred to have gone far longer without the _fucking sore_ experience.

As it is he is in the bloody unenviable position of having a bullet somewhere unpleasant. These fucking royalists have shot him in a place London gangster youths love to stick a knife, and Sebastian does not need to pat himself down to find the source of the blood swiftly heating his trouser leg.

Sebastian weakly gets Jim behind a thick shield of chipped marble and drops himself onto the floor. He already feels cold and weak.

“Jim,” Sebastian says very carefully, “I'm going to need you to lie in some of my blood for a while. You're going to have to stay very quiet. And when you can, I want you to hide. You'll know what to do when they're gone.”

Jim looks at his chief of staff with an expression Sebastian has not ever seen before. Seb blinks at it and tries to focus, but his vision swims. The lack of blood to where it is supposed to go is painting black around the sides of his sight and the noises of warfare beyond them dip like his head has been submerged underwater.

Sebastian has curled onto his side and bent his leg into something resembling the recovery position although Jim can clearly tell the blond holds few hopes for survival. The pose does not hide the swiftly growing puddle of blood leaking from Sebastian's flesh and a brief glance at the somber red mass exposes Seb's increasing closeness to exsanguination. 

Jim rips off his tie and gets on his knees.

Sebastian's a heavy man, but the consulting criminal manages to get his blond's leg propped up and elevated against his slight shoulder as he tightly wraps his tie around Seb's thigh as high and close to the big man's groin as he possibly can.

The chief of staff winces.

“Hurts? Too tight?” Jim asks.

Sebastian makes a strained, tired noise of agreement. He manages to make his pain and growing disorientation evident in his irregular breathing.

“Good,” Jim says shortly. He forces the makeshift tourniquet tighter still in a vice-like twist and tries to ensure the pressure will stay tight even when his chief of staff's hands have little strength.

“Hold this,” Jim says shortly. “Do your best to count out when to slacken it off a little. Don't let it get too loose if I don't come back. You keep this tight, understand?”

This is when Sebastian feels his fiercest surge of panic. “Jim, where are you going? Jimmy, you don't go out there! _It's not safe_...”

“Shh, 'Bastian, I know,” Jim mutters. “Stay fucking quiet and _do not_ let the tourny go slack or I will cut off your other leg too.”

Sebastian tries to get up.

Jim pushes his chief of staff back down firmly. “That's an order, Tiger,” he snarls. Leaning over the blond, Jim kisses Sebastian with a brief, intense passion, then moves away and looks past their cover.

“Jim..!” Seb slurs.

“I love you!” Jim blurts, and then he is gone. Sebastian listens desperately to the sounds around him, trying to pick Jim out, but everything fades and even on his back unconsciousness does not take long to rush up to meet him.

His blood pools out beyond the marble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER: this chapter and the next are going to be an emotional rollercoaster, but when have you ever known me to kill off one of our boys?


	13. Chapter 13

...Jim?”

Sebastian wakes from uneasy dreams of his consulting criminal scrambling through gunfire and finds his wrist hampered by an IV drip. Seb's nostrils are not filled with hospital chemicals, but neither are they clogged with blood and sand. Sebastian looks around with increasing alertness as he pulls himself further from his disconcerting dreams, but finds that he does not recognise his surroundings.

Sebastian shifts his weight and discovers the dull ache he is experiencing seems to be originating from beneath thick bandages around the upmost part of his thigh. With a start Sebastian supposes some of his dreams may not have been entirely separate from reality, and that the vaguely floaty, pounding mess his head is in is likely a combination of strong drugs and excessive blood loss.

Sebastian's fingers tighten as he wonders his errant principal's whereabouts. “M?” he calls warily.

The blond hears a clatter from beyond the walls surrounding him. Before Sebastian can do much more than fumble his legs to the edge of his bed and wince at his efforts, an erratic wheelchair forces open the only door and bumps awkwardly off of the doorframe three times.

Jim is wearing bandages of his own.

Sebastian feels an overwhelming wave of both worry and relief. He forces his feet to the floor and ignores how his legs scream in protest and try to dissolve into the grout between the tiles. Seb uses the bed to stiffly pull himself to the brunet.

“Get back in bed,” Jim snaps.

Sebastian flinches although he knows the sharpness of his consulting criminal's tone is understandable worry. Seb knows he hasn't the energy to protest, so he shuffles his weight back against the thin mattress and tries to find a position that doesn't make his new ventilation sing with horrendous pain.

“What happened?” Sebastian asks.

Jim's shoulders twitch tellingly. “I called in help,” he says in a blasé manner that might have convinced anyone else.

“The bandage, Kitten,” Sebastian says shortly.

Jim swallows. “You got yourself shot,” he says.

“Nice try,” Seb glowers. “ _Your_ bandages.”

Jim looks down at his chest reluctantly and sighs. “It's been a while since I've had to look after my own skin. I'm rusty.”

Sebastian gives the rust-coloured staining on Jim's bandages a pointedly unimpressed look.

The brunet rolls his eyes and crosses an arm over his chest to brush the wound uncomfortably. “Let's just say I've a renewed appreciation for the job you do, Tiger.”

Sebastian guffaws dryly. “Why do I get the terrible feeling that isn't going to adjust your behaviour one little bit?”

Jim's eyes suddenly sparkle and his lips quiver in an attempt not to grin so easily. “Because you're no fool, Bastian, and you know there would be no fun in an easy life.”

Sebastian leans back and grumbles comfortably, intent on snarking back, before being rudely distracted by a shooting pain along his hip and thigh. He breathes in quickly.

Jim's eyes widen and he clumsily navigates his wheelchair closer. “You okay?”

Sebastian grunts. “I got shot in the arse, what do you think?”

Jim laughs not entirely unkindly. “Don't think I'm going to let you milk this. When I get you home your bloody arse is _mine_. Look what happened to me with your eyes off the ball.”

Sebastian sniffs haughtily at the lack of sympathy but in reality he's quite glad of his brunet's response. Seb is not a fan of being mothered. After a beat the chief of staff's lips press together. “What _did_ happen?”

“I discovered I'm a lot less bullet proof without your bulk shielding me,” Jim says with wry sourness. “You're lucky you taught me that thing about shoving my fist under my armpit.”

Sebastian looks at his Jim intently before nodding. “I'm glad you listened to me on that rare occasion.”

Dark eyes turn to the side. “If I'd listened to _your_ plan you'd have bled out,” Jim mutters.

Sebastian rolls his neck uncomfortably. He's uncertain how to process his brush with death, or the way Jim is looking at him, so the chief of staff stays silent as he thinks of something to say. “You… You _coulda_ just listened when I said the job was a _terrible_ idea.”

“I have no terrible ideas,” Jim grouses automatically, but his little Adam's apple bobs at the lie. “And you know that I never listen to you.”

Sebastian chuckles at the near truth in that then winces. Apparently even laughter hurts his butt: the movement shifts his weight and aggravates his recent wound.

Jim gives the blond an uncharacteristically sympathetic look.

If the situation was less serious Sebastian would have joked about that. As it is Seb drags himself into a more tolerable position and looks the little man over. “You need that chair then?”

Jim blinks. “No, I'm just playing dodge 'ems with doorframes for the good of my health,” he says dryly.

“What's the damage?” Sebastian asks.

“Few gouges that hurt like a bitch,” Jim sighs.

“What happened?”

“I've never been good at taking machetes off of people,” Jim admits shortly.

Sebastian swallows and he is devoid of any urge to tease about the hours they have spent together drilling Jim in disarming techniques. “How bad?”

“Mostly shallow nicks but one clipped the bone,” Jim says. “I can put weight on my legs but it hurts like a motherfucker and I have the poise of a classic horror monster.”

“Physio?” Sebastian asks.

Jim shrugs. “I want a second opinion from my own doctors. These have been fine, but I didn't have much time to be discerning.”

“How did you get me here?” Sebastian asks.

Jim looks dark for a moment. With a thrill his chief of staff remembers what a chillingly detached genius he shares a bed with.

“I disabled the bad guys and had our people sort things,” Jim says dismissively.

Sebastian surmises this is all the information he is getting for the moment. “Kudos for getting me attention in time. Can't have been easy without a Bloodbag of my own, eh?”

Jim's tongue touches the top of his lip. His eyebrows suggests he is trying to hold back a comment.

Sebastian looks mildly horrified. “You _don't_? I mean obviously it was useful, but _seriously_?”

Jim rolls his shoulders awkwardly. “I ensured I had my own insurance in place; it makes poor business sense not to protect my biggest asset.”

Sebastian blinks quickly. His consulting criminal is often slow to praise and Sebastian supposes this effort cost Jim. “Love you too,” Seb mutters.

Jim swallows uncomfortably. “I love you too. Don't fucking get shot like that again.”

“Not really something I'm planning,” the blond answers dryly, “although I admit I _do_ work for you.”

Approaching noise draws their attention. A doctor enters and gives them both a look. “Glad to see you're awake,” he says to Sebastian. Warily, the doctor sighs at Jim and adds, “We've talked about this, sir. You shouldn't be out of bed, and you certainly should not be detached from all the things we are using _to improve your health_.”

Jim grits his teeth.

“Kit-Kat, is this gentleman implying you are more seriously injured than you _told_ me?” Sebastian purrs coldly.

Jim swallows. “I'll heal a lot better if I'm near you not worrying.”

Sebastian shoots his lover an unimpressed look. “How bad is it?” he asks the doctor.

The doctor glances back and forth between them before answering, “He should be on bed rest. And lots of drugs.”

Sebastian nods slowly. “Can you bring me his notes please? I'll persuade him to go back to bed.”

The doctor looks wary and relieved. He takes the chance to escape.

“I liked it better when you weren't awake,” Jim grumbles meekly.

“I liked it better when you weren't lying to me and I wasn't shot in the goddamned arse,” his chief of staff shoots back.

“Awake less than an hour and already you've got your claws out, Tiger?” Jim says weakly.

“You dragged me to a dry country,” Sebastian grumbles. “You didn't hurt anything important, did you?”

“I'll live,” Jim reassures.

“Guess I will too, thanks to you,” Sebastian says quietly.

“I'm so fucking glad, Bastian,” Jim says.


	14. Chapter 14

Sebastian Moran has never been a man to complain or even ruminate at length about his misfortune, but he does have limits. Today his limit appears to be sitting in a tiny private plane for hours on a bullet hole in his behind that burns with fiery indignation every time the fragile plane is jostled by a slight breeze.

His sour look communicates this to Jim before the injured blond even opens his mouth, but Sebastian speaks anyway, for Sebastian is in a poor temper. “Genius, are you? You never think anything through. Do you know how much pain I'm in? Do you know how mad I am at you? Do you-”

“Oh, Bastian, hush, or Daddy's going to give you a double dose of pain meds to shut you up,” Jim mutters.

Sebastian's eyebrows raise. “Firstly, _James_ , you do not get to tell me to be quiet. Not after your last disaster that's left me fantasising about a doughnut cushion. Secondly, my love, if you've got extra pain meds that better not mean that you haven't taken your own-”

“I'm not a martyr, darling,” Jim interrupts.

Seb's chin juts out. He thrusts out his his palm too and growls, “In that case, _darling_ , give me a good dose.”

Jim rolls his eyes but does not look as irritatingly unruffled as usual. The skin around his eyes stays creased in a way that would seem guilty and worried on another man's face.

Jim hands Sebastian the medication. The shock of it – Jim obeying without prolonged argument- unsettles Sebastian more than the frailty of their method of transport (the plane seemingly held together by spit, sellotape and an atheist's prayer). The blond throws one pill down his throat but keeps the other in his shirt pocket. With events as precarious as they seem (Jim Moriarty, looking guilty, _Jim Moriarty_ doing _precisely as he is told_ ) Sebastian reasons it is best to keep some of his wits about him. Even if those wits do need some numbing to cope with his shot bottom being jostled on a splinter purporting to be a plane chair.

Despite Seb's aggravation and their 'stealthy' choice in transportation the chief of staff falls asleep well before they reach terra firma. Jim bursts half his stitches trying to shake Sebastian awake, but the blond remains groggy enough on the drive home not to notice. Jim continues to manage his staff as he has Sebastian guided inside and looked over by competent medical professionals. It has been a long time since the consulting criminal has had to organise such things himself and he does his best to tell himself the uncomfortable knot in his stomach is entirely a result of poorly deflected blades.

Sebastian sleeps on and off for days. Jim's injuries are equally trying, but Seb is in no fit state to persuade the brunet from his laptop or mobile, much less onwards to bed rest. The sounds from Jim's swift typing drifts in and out of Seb's dreams.

The revolution technically worked, Sebastian eventually finds out. He does not understand how this can be so, but Jim is adding to his consternation by being suspiciously sparing with any details. It seems to be drawing a great deal of the exasperating consulting criminal's attention, and as soon as Sebastian insists upon no longer being bedridden Jim declares an intention to go afield to an external office. He has meetings to attend, sans use of his chief of staff and favourite bodyguard or not.

Sebastian informs Jim in no uncertain terms that Jim is _not_ going to do any such thing. The brunet has gouges from crown to calf and needs rest. Work can wait, even if Seb needs to sit on his belligerent brunet to do so.

Jim narrows his dark eyes but does not fight Sebastian as vehemently as usual, or even choose to ignore Seb's input, as is so often the brunet's wont. Instead Jim glowers and stays housebound, working zealously from home. Sebastian fails to wrestle away Jim's laptop, but even continuing to work solely from their home is a surprising concession to Seb's will. If Sebastian hadn't studied both of their health records so meticulously he would think perhaps one of them was dying.

Jim misses few details in life, and certainly not many instances that occur in his own house. “You're not expiring,” he tells his chief of staff. The brunet curls his lip and scoffs, “It was only a gunshot wound, 'Bastian.”

Sebastian feels baited by the dismissal but does not respond to it, knowing this is often how Jim tries to distract him from pertinent information. Instead the blond presses, “ _James_.”

Jim looks at Sebastian. _Really_ looks at the man. “I'm not dying either,” Jim tells his chief of staff. “I gave you access to my secret files to ensure that if I ever _do_ die you will be equipped to deal with the aftermath, but I am in perfectly good health other than my present injuries, which are mere flesh wounds.”

Sebastian chews his lip slowly. “So I have nothing to worry about?”

“Well, no,” Jim mutters.

Sebastian holds in a sigh and feels regret at being correct in his assessment of Jim's careful way of talking and holding back information, _as usual_. “Out with it then,” Seb grumbles.

Jim swallows and looks at the floor. “Your favourite princess is insisting on coming to the UK and I haven't been able to stop her,” the brunet blurts. He takes a few steps backwards away from Sebastian and towards the nearest exit, as the brunet usually does when he knows he's in trouble.

“ _You're still working with her_?” Sebastian shouts.

Jim squirms. “Not exactly. She thinks I fixed everything and is certain Bro is going to fall madly in love with her now or something equally perverse. I don't know. I was catching up on a lot of emails, and I've been wasting time sleeping through the night recently.”

“Sleeping to heal,” Sebastian groans. “You've been sleeping to heal, Jim. Can't you just explain that this is a lost cause or orchestrate something like you usually do?”

“I've been trying, but I'm not exactly at my best at the moment,” Jim complains. “I'm tempted just to kill her, but Bronagh makes such a fuss when I kill off her exes, and _technically_ the new queen is good for business.”

“Fuck business, your sister's important,” Seb chides. He sighs and thinks for a moment. “Hey Kitten?”

Jim looks at the blond reservedly. “What?”

“That brother of yours, is he clever like you?”


End file.
